The Prince, Continued
by bookaddict209
Summary: Because let's face it, it just wasn't long enough.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just an idea I've had for a really long time that clawed its way out of my head today. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**All from Maxon's POV**

I interviewed seven more ladies after America returned to her seat. All I could think was that she should've gone last; with the memory of her fresh in my mind, the other girls seemed impersonable and fake. The only other girl to make any sort of impression on me was Elise, simply because I recognized that she was New Asian and guessed it was the reason Father had chosen her.

When at last the last girl was seated, I stood and walked to the center of the room. I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. "If I have asked you to remain behind, please stay in your seats. If not, please proceed with Silvia here into the dining hall. I will join you shortly."

I watched as most of the ladies stood and began walking toward the dining hall, where Mother and Father were already waiting. I wondered what Father would think when he noticed the eight empty chairs.

Hmm. Perhaps I should've waited and at least let the ladies have breakfast before I sent them home.

Well, there was no turning back now. The ladies waited expectantly, some nervous, some smug. I noted with displeasure that the cameras were still hanging around. Not only was I about to ruin eight girls' chances of being my wife, it was going to be televised.

I smiled at them. "Ladies, thank you so much for your patience." They nodded their collective heads at me.

I ran through a couple of different ways to say it in my head, but all of them were quite insensitive. I realized I probably should've prepared something to say in this circumstance beforehand. I'd avoided thinking about the Selection for so long that now I was in the midst of it, completely at a loss for words. This only proved that no good came from procrastination.

_Just say it Maxon,_ I commanded myself. _You can't keep them waiting any more. _

I took a deep breath. "Ladies, I want to thank all of you for coming and affording me the opportunity to meet you all today. It has been a true pleasure."

They all smiled at that. I soldiered on. "However, I feel that it is in everyone's best interest if I begin whittling the Selection pool down to its truest candidates immediately. So in that spirit, I asked you ladies to stay behind with me because I don't feel that we have any chance of becoming husband and wife."

All of them, _every single one of them_, froze. A few mouths fell open. Lyssa, in particular, teared up immediately. I tried not to look at her; I was feeling wretched enough as it was.

"I do apologize," I continued. "I just feel that it woud be a waste of time, both yours and mine, for us to continue a relationship that had no chance of proceeding anywhere."

Nobody moved. I floundered about for a bit in my head for something more to say. "Please, feel free to keep the dresses and jewelry that were provided for you this morning, as a token of my appreciation for your coming today."

They still hadn't moved. I looked over at Sylvia, who had entered the room a moment ago. She scampered over to me.

"You can join the other ladies in the dining hall with your parents," she whispered to me. "I'll handle this."

I nodded and, with a final bow at the eight frozen ladies, all but sprinted from the room. I sincerely hoped I would never have to eliminate a group of ladies in such an impersonal manner again.

I walked into the dining hall and proceeded to make my way to my seat. A few of the girls made to get up, so I quickly called out. "Please don't rise, ladies. Enjoy your breakfasts."

I kissed Mother on her cheek when I approached her. She gave me a warm smile. Father looked expectant, so I gave him a firm pat on the back. I sat down and Justin, the kitchen butler who was always responsible for bringing me my food, appeared at my right and set my plate down.

"Always impeccable timing," I told him easily. "I was so ravenous the napkin was about to become my breakfast."

He laughed quietly. I always joked with Justin when he brought me my food; I'd known him as long as anyone, and we'd worked up a strange comraderieship. We weren't strangers, but we weren't exactly friends.

Speaking of friends, where was America? I wondered. I found her just as the door opened and the camera crew walked into the dining hall. Not wanting to give us away, I took my eyes off her and focused on my food.

The cameras did a quick lap and got another shot of me before leaving. When they were gone, Father leaned over and said, "well done, Maxon. Eight eliminations within the first hour. Keep this up and we'll have picked one by the end of the month."

I wasn't sure what part of that statement bothered me more, the 'we', or the 'one,'; in Father's mind, we may as well have been choosing furniture together.

I took a bite of my food and looked around the table, watching the ladies eat. It was nice to watch their faces as they took their first bites of such decadence, but America's face was by far the funniest. When she bit into a strawberry tart, her eyes rolled up a bit and I heard her moan a little. She really _was_ staying for the food.

I wasn't sure what it was; maybe the combination of a weight being lifted from my shoulders, or of the confirmation that I could handle the Selection after all. Whatever it was, I suddenly found myself wanting to tease her about it.

I waited until she had a mouthful of food and called, "Lady America?"

Every head in the room turned in my direction, but I was focused on her expression. It was priceless; her eyes popped open like a deer in headlights, and she threw her hand over her mouth as she tried to swallow.

When she could speak, she said, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"How are you enjoying the food?" I was on the verge of laughter, but I was trying my best to hold it in. She looked mortified that I was calling her out. I calmly ate another forkfull of food.

America swallowed again and tried to compose her face into a mask of calm. "It's excellent, Your Majesty. This strawberry tart...well, I have a sister who loves sweets more than I do. I think she'd cry if she tasted this. It's perfect."

I swallowed and sat back, thinking about that. What an odd think to cry over. "Do you really think she would cry?"

She tilted her head to the side in thought. "Yes, actually, I do. She doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to her emotions."

"Would you wager money on it?" came out of my mouth before I could stop it. I'd never spoken so freely with anyone so quickly, not even Daphne.

"If I had any to bet, I would." She smiled as she said this.

I wondered what she meant by that, but another thought wormed its way out of my mouth. "What would you be willing to barter instead? You seem to be very good at striking deals."

I knew this was confusing to everyone else, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was enjoying this game with America and, from the look in her eye, I could tell she was willing to keep playing.

"Well, what do you want?" she asked.

"What do _you _want?" I challenged. The things I wanted- true love, a different system for finding a wife- were far too heavy and abstract for morning breakfast conversation. I was, however, very interested to hear her response. So far, she'd said and done the opposite of all my expectations. I thought of what she could ask for while I waited on her answer. Jewelry, clothes, maybe some artwork-

"If she cries, I want to wear pants for a week," she stated.

I gave a short bark of laughter with everyone else. _Pants?!_ Oh my, America was quickly becoming my favorite. I realized now what I wanted from her that I could ask for.

"Done," I said. "And if she doesn't, you owe me a walk around the grounds tomorrow afternoon." I had to start trying to date sometime, and America seemed like the perfect girl to begin with. She'd be honest with me about anything that I messed up, and in return I could ask her for any advice I needed.

"You drive a hard bargain sir, but I accept," she said, taking another bite of her breakfast.

I couldn't wait until after breakfast to get started on this, so I decided to start now. "Justin?"

He stepped up to me, an amused expression on his face. I told him, "Go make a parcel of strawberry tarts and send it to the lady's family. Have someone wait while her sister tastes it, and let us know if she does, in fact, cry. I'm most curious about this."

He nodded and left. I turned back to the table. "You should write a note to send with it and tell your family you're safe."

She gave a sidelong glance to one of the girls sitting near her, and I suddenly remembered we were surrounded by thirty other people. "In fact, you all should," I quickly covered. "After breakfast, write a letter to your families, and we'll make sure they recieve them today."

All the girls smiled and sighed. Breakfast resumed and was over quickly after that, and on my way out of the dining hall, I found myself praying her sister would hold her tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**It was originally supposed to be a one-shot; but when I saw the response in my email, I went, "damn, now I have to finish this, don't I?"**

**Anyway, here's part two. Enjoy**

**Disclaimer: Kiera Cass owns all**

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I wasn't disappointed.

"I had Jonathan wait with them while her younger sister tried the tarts, Your Highness," Justin told me later that afternoon. I was in my room, reading over budget reports at my desk when he arrived. "She did not cry, sir. She said they were so good that she could have, but she didn't actually cry."

I smiled to myself. "Very well. Please send someone to tell America that I'll come to her room at around five tomorrow to pick her up."

He nodded and was halfway to the door when I thought of something else. "Wait, one more thing. Find the person in charge of making the clothes for all the Selected girls and commission them to make America three pairs of pants by tomorrow. Have them delivered by about 5:15."

The next day, I gently paced outside her room, watching my wristwatch. When it changed to five, I knocked on her door. A maid opened it and America stepped out, wearing a blue dress that was beautiful on her. I remember she'd worn a blue dress yesterday as well; I made a mental note to ask if it was her favorite color.

I smiled at her. "For the sake of appearances, would you please take my arm?"

I put my arm out and, though she hesitated, she took it. I could feel the heat of her arms on mine as we stared walking. I quite enjoyed it, but I noticed she looked a tad uncomfortable.

I tried to get her talking again. "I'm sorry she didn't cry," I told her.

"No you're not," she said. Her teasing tone was obvious.

"I've never gambled before. It was nice to win."

"Beginner's luck," she teased.

I smiled. "Perhaps. Next time we'll try to make her laugh."

I could see her thinking about her sister almost immediately. They must've had a strong bond. "What's your family like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. Your family must be very different from mine."

"I'd say so," she laughed. "For one, no one wears their tiaras to breakfast."

I smiled. "More of a dinner thing at the Singer house?"

"Of course."

I laughed, marveling again at how easy it was to talk to her. If it was this easy with the other members of the Selection, Father was wrong about it ending within the month; I could easily see it stretching on into winter if all the ladies were this charming.

"Well," she said, "I"m the middle child of five."

"Five!" What on Earth must it be like to grow up with four other siblings?

"Yeah, five. Most families out there have lots of kids. I'd have lots if I could."

"Oh, really?" I didn't mean to raise my eyebrows, but I felt them go up. She blushed a bit, probably realizing the implications of what she'd just said. It was quite a personal thing for her to share with me, and she appeared to regret it. However, I couldn't help but imagine what life would be like with lots of little children running around...

"Yes. Anyway, my oldest sister, Kenna, is married to a Four. She works in a factory. My mom is really gunning for me to marry at least a Four, but I would have to stop singing, and I love it too much! But I guess I'm a Three now. That's really weird. I think I'll try to stay in music if I can."

She went on to describe her second oldest sibling, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't pay much attention. I found my mind wandering, imagining what kind of a singing voice she had. Was it strong and powerful, the kind of voice that was so intense it gave you goosebumps? I could see that going right along with her character so far. Just as easily, however, I could see her singing something soft and delicate, like a love song.

A love song. Hmm. If she were here to the end, would she ever sing a love song to me?

_Stay in the moment, Maxon,_ I recalled my father saying suddenly. _The Selection is not another chance for you to daydream. _I gave a slight shake of my head and forced myself to listen to her.

"Then there's me," she was saying.

I grinned. "America Singer, my closest friend," I teased.

"That's right," she responded, but I caught her rolling her eyes like she didn't believe me. Did she honestly think I had many friends?

"After me, there's May. She's the one who sold me out and didn't cry. Honestly, I was robbed. I can't believe she didn't cry; I've seen her tear up when we have pancakes, for God's sake!" I held in my laugh as I watched her grow more sarcastically annoyed.

"But yeah, she's an artist. I...I adore her." And just like that, her whole face changed. She seemed to regress, like she was remembering the time they spent together. I wondered how much America missed her; hopefully not enough to want to leave anytime soon. She was too much fun.

"And then Gerad, the baby of the family. He's seven. He hasn't really figured out what he wants his focus to be, so we're trying to get him to experiment more. Anyway, that's everyone."

"What about your parents?" I asked. I wanted to know more about her, but mostly I just wanted her to keep talking.

"What about _your _parents?" she threw back.

I cocked my head in confusion. "You know my parents."

"No, I don't. I know the public image of them. What are they really like?" She tugged on my arm, reminding me of the way my little cousins had pestered their older siblings. It was strangly welcoming, like she enjoyed my company. I sighed, relishing the feeling.

I wondered about what to say when we stepped out into the garden. The guards along the walkway were smiling at us slyly, and just past them a camera crew waited. The producer smiled at me and made a motion for me to continue and act natural. A few of the gaffers winked at me.

_Absolutely not._ I shook my head at them, and the producer looked annoyed. Nevertheless, they went back inside, cursing softly.

I noticed America had tensed up when she'd seen them, but she didn't relax when I sent them away. "Are you all right? You seem tense," I said.

America shrugged. "You get confused by crying women, I get confused by hanging out with princes."

I laughed a little. What about me could possibly be confusing?

I watched her blush a little and realized she may have been put off by the fact that we were within earshot of about five guards. I surreptitiously guided her into the shadow of the castle, which happened to be a dead zone for the guards. I came here a lot when I needed to think.

"What about me is confusing to you?" I asked. I couldn't imagine I could be the least bit puzzling when compared to how completely mysterious she was.

"Your character. Your intentions. I'm not sure what you want from this little stroll."

"Ah." She wondered why I'd singled her out for a date. "I think you can tell I'm not the kind to beat around the bush. I'll tell you exactly what I want from you."

I wanted her to tell me how I was doing so far on our date; I also wanted her advice on what constituted a good date. I opened my mouth to say so, but before I could say anything, I noticed a guard at the corner of my vision ever so slowly inching toward us. The last thing I needed was for my Father to hear through the grapevine that I was asking the ladies for advice. I took a step closer.

I have _absolutely no idea_ why this warrented her attack.

I stepped closer to her to avoid being overheard, and the next thing I knew she was thrusting her knee into my groin.

_Holy mother of- _I yelled out and leaned over, clutching myself in pain. America was backing away from me. "What the hell was that?" I managed to choke out.

"You lay a single finger on me and I'll do worse!" she threatened.

"What?"

"I said, you-"

"No, no, you crazy girl, I heard you the first time. But what in the world did you mean by it?" I squinted at her through the pain, and it looked like she was blushing. Guards ran up, trying to assess the situation. I waved them away, irritated.

The pain faded away, and stretched myself upright to face her. "What did you think I wanted?" I asked. Why on earth would she just assault me? I thought back to my earlier actions. I had been getting closer to her...alone...in the dark...with no guards around.

Oh.

_OH._

"America, what-you- that's what you thought I wanted?" I sputtered. "In public?!"

She looked down, confirming the worst of my thoughts.

"You seriously...for God's sake, I'm a gentleman!" I cried.

She wouldn't look at me, which was just as well, because I'd never been so humiliated in all my life. America honestly thought I would ever lay with someone in public?! In the _grass,_ for heaven's sake?

I had a sudden epiphany; had this been why she was so tense earlier? Because she thought...good heavens.

"Why did you even offer to help me if you think so little of me?" I demanded. She didn't answer.

I rubbed my head with my hands and pinched my nose. "You'll be taking dinner in your room tonight. I'll deal with this in the morning."

I turned and stalked out of the garden. Every guard along the way stared straight ahead, no doubt having heard every word. My cheeks burned. I bit my lip in frustration.

She thought I was some kind of pervert. She'd offered to help me, to be my friend, all the while thinking I was a dog who would take her the second the opportunity presented itself. It was mortifying.

I summoned Justin and commanded him to have America's dinner sent to her before storming into my room.

I threw my tie on the ground in frustration. I picked it up off the ground and hung it in my closet, too compulsively neat to leave it. I paced. I cleaned my cameras. I showered.

Nothing helped. I changed clothes for dinner and went down to the Dining Hall. All the girls stood and curtsied to me, and I smiled at them. Father couldn't tell something was amiss, because I'd become so adept at controlling my emotions. Mother could, though.

"Is something the matter?" she asked me over our soup.

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled. She and my father shared a glance over my head.

I ate my soup, but when the main dish came, I found myself unwilling to stomach it. I had Justin take it away and excused myself early from the table. Father wasn't happy, but I didn't care. It had been a long day.

I was walking along the third floor balcony, watching the ground floor, when I noticed America coming back inside. She looked mollified, but still upset. She was hugging her arms around herself and moving as fast as she could in her shoes. Had she been outside all this time?

As angry as I was, I wanted to stop her and give her a chance to explain. It was obvious she was moritfied about having had the wrong impression of me. But what put it there in the first place?

The answer didn't come to me until much later that night, when I was winding down for sleep. As someone who wasn't nearly as sheltered as I was, certainly she'd had the chance to meet other guys. And she had said she'd been in love once before. Maybe one of them had acted in such a way.

Was that possible? Could she have lashed out at me because this had happened to her before?

Well, that just made it ten times worse. I had yelled at her, left her standing alone outside, and for all I knew, it could've been a simple act of self preservation.

_Way to go, you idiot,_ I thought to myself.

The next morning, Justin asked me if I should like to have Lady America's breakfast sent to her room again. "No," I responded with a sigh. "She may come to breakfast."

I dressed quickly and rushed to the door. I hadn't eaten anything but soup last night, and I was starving. But when I opened the door, Mother was waiting for me.

She smiled and offered her arm. "Take a walk with me?"

I couldn't very well say no, could I?

Like a gentleman, I offered my arm instead and we walked slowly down the third floor corridor. Mother gently reached out and fixed a strand of my hair.

"I know this is all very strange for you," she told me. "But when I told you you could talk to me about anything, I meant it."

I sighed. "I know, Mother. I just didn't want to get into it in front of Father."

"Well, he's not here now. What happened?"

"A misunderstanding that ended with me taking a hit to the groin, let's just say," I told her.

She looked somewhat shocked. "What kind of a misunderstanding leads to _that_?"

"I'm not sure yet," I said. "The misunderstanding could be on my side. All I know is that if Father finds out about this, he'll have her sent away, and I don't want her to go yet. I want to give her the chance to explain herself first."

Mother looked concerned for me the way a mother should; but just under the surface, I could see barely contained laughter. It was quite a ridiculous situation.

"You do whatever you think is proper, son," she told me. "Just let me know how it goes."

"I will," I told her as we arrived at the Dining Hall.

We had just taken our seats when the girls began to arrive. I looked for America; she was one of the last to come in. Looking at her, I found myself getting all embarrased again and I looked down at my food so I couldn't see her.

I could still hear, though.

Halfway through the meal, the lady sitting next to America- Lady Kriss, I believe- lened over and quietly asked, "How was it?"

Every girl close enough to hear immediately stopped eating and pay attention. I heard America take a breath.

"Nice, I guess. We just talked."

Sighs and grunts from the other girls indicated that they wanted more. Another lady spoke up. "How did he act?"

Father glanced at me, giving me a weird look. I realized I was completely frozen, trying to hear what she would say. I took a bite of my food to cover it up.

"Umm...not at all how I expected he would."

My cheeks burned.

"Are you being like that on purpose?" another asked. "If you are, it's awfully mean."

"No, it's just that-"

America was cut off by the sound of guards and servants shouting to one another in terror just beyond the doors. Mother, Father and I all understood what was happening; after all, there was only one reason for all the noise.

God damn the rebels.

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**Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry this chapter took to long to get out- I was registering for COLLEGE! Anyway, here's part 3 for those who wanted it!**

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"To the back of the room, ladies!" Father yelled. He ran up to the window and pulled down a shade. Mother and I ran to do the same.

Compared to the rest of the palace, the shades were relatively new, put into place when I was about four. It was the result of a particular attack where many of the windows had rocks thrown through them. I'd spent that time cowering in my mother's arms, hiding from the sounds of shattering glass and my father's shouts for me to 'pull myself together' and 'act like a man'.

Many of the girls moved slowly to the head of the table as the main doors were shut and bolted. I overheard a guard telling my father the rebels were inside the walls. I turned to make sure the other girls were coming, and I saw a most peculiar thing.

America, rather than running for the relative safety of the back of the room, ran toward the closest window and began pulling down the shade. After watching this, a few of the other girls did the same. Another facet of her character fell into place; she was brave.

I moved to help them, knowing how tricky the locks could be. America had just gotten it down when something slammed against it. She screamed and shot backwards, tripping over her chair and landing hard on the tiles.

I was by her side in an instant. "Are you hurt?"

She took a silent assessment and shook her head. "No."

"To the back of the room. Now!" I shouted to the others as I helped her off the ground. She ran and joined the others.

Father was talking to a guard, his arm wrapped around Mother's torso. There were times when I denied his love for my mother, but it was moments like this that made me reconsider. It was obvious he would rip a rebel to shreds to keep her safe.

I sighed and walked to edge of the group of ladies to check on each of them individually. Many of the girls were in shock, staring around with a blank look in their eyes and not really reacting to anything. Others were sobbing and clutched at my arms for dear life. One girl in particular grabbed my head and hugged it to her chest as she sobbed, effectively drowning me in her cleavage. It was nearly impossible to pull my head away in a polite manner.

I knelt in front of one girl, whose nametag read Tuesday, and gently rubbed her hand. She wasn't crying hysterically, nor was she frozen, but she was somewhere in between.

I tried to be soothing. "These attacks never last long, my dear," I said. "You're safe; you have nothing to fear."

"I want to go home," she told me.

I froze.

For any of these girls to become the queen, they had to be able to handle rebel attacks like this, considering how frequently they came. I knew this, but I hadn't considered the very real possibility that no one would be able to stomach the danger.

Would I be important enough to the my future wife to warrant the risk?

I swallowed. "I assure you, this really is nothing to worry about." A large object smacked into the shade over the windows, making a few girls scream and not helping the point I was trying to make.

"I don't care," she cried. "I'll never be comfortable here if I have to worry about dying in a rebel attack. When this is over, will you let me leave? Please?"

Panic flared up in my chest, but what could I do? It was pretty obvious Tuesday and I could never be together if the first sign of danger sent her running for the hills. The castle wasn't the stronghold Father wanted it to appear to be, and there would eventually come a day when the rebels got in and came for us. I couldn't have a queen who wasn't prepared to handle that.

"Of course, my dear," I said as I kissed her hand. "But for the time being, do please try to relax. I promise it will be over soon."

She gave me a small smile. I gently squeezed her hands as I stood, trying not to have a full-on panic attack. So one girl wanted to leave; that didn't mean others would feel the same way. I continued to think this way, talking myself off my ledge, but when another girl asked the same thing, I climbed right back onto it.

Eventually, I made my way around to America. She was standing, leaning against the wall and staring at a vase of flowers. Her face was devoid of tears, and her eyes weren't blank; instead, she looked worried.

I knew she saw me, but neither of us moved. I didn't know what to say, but I couldn't just stand there.

Cheeks aflame, I muttered, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she whispered back.

I didn't believe her. She was biting her nails down to her fingers, and some were so low she was sure to draw blood soon. "You seem upset. I assure you, we're safe in here."

"What will happen to my maids?" she asked me.

"Your maids," I deadpanned. We were locked in a room barricaded by aluminum window shades and steel bars, with hostile men pouring into the courtyard, and she was worried about her maids?

"Yes, my maids," she replied fiercely. "You say _we're_ safe, but what will happen to the people who were in our rooms? Or in the kitchen? Or just walking in the hall? Are _they_ safe?"

Not a single girl so far had thought about anybody other than themselves. Neither had I, for that matter. From statistical analysis sheets Father was always giving me, I knew there were some two hundred or so personnel employed here. That was two hundred people who, for all I knew, never made it to a safe zone, and I hadn't even stopped to think about them. I would have to mention that to Father later. We needed some kind of comunication system between the shelters to ensure everyone was secure.

"They should be in a safe room- there about about four dozen of them, spread out in the palace. The guards are trained to get everyone where they need to be quickly, and everyone knows what to do in an emergency. We used to have an alarm system, but the last time the rebels were here, they destroyed it. They were supposed to fix it, but it never got done."

She wasn't looking at me. She was staring at the floor, and the wrinkle between her eyes told me my words weren't helping. Throwing the relatively safety of my groin to the wind, I took a step closer.

"America," I begged. She looked up. "They're fine. The rebels were slow; they had plenty of time to get away."

She nodded at me, crossing her arms. We stood silently, and I took her body language to mean that I should move on. I turned to go.

"Maxon," she called. I froze, surprised she would address me without my title. Everyone else had been meticulous in their use of it. Then again, America wasn't everyone else. I needed to stop lumping her in with them; she was one of a kind.

"About last night. Let me explain."

I knew there was an explanation. I raised my eyebrows at her. "Yes?"

She looked uneasy. "When they came to prep us, there was a man who took me aside and told me I was never to turn you down. No matter what you wanted. Ever."

I think my mouth fell open a little. I could understand her thinking I was pervert if she had known _other_ perverts, but who was this man running around telling everyone I wanted to sleep with them? I wanted him fired immediately. "What?"

"He made it sound like you might ask for...well, you know. And you told me you had never really been around women. And then you sent the cameras away, and...well, there's really no excuse that will make this better. I just got scared when you got so close."

I lost composure of my face. Normally, a portion of my brain kept tabs on it the same way my brain made me blink, but for a brief second, my entire being was totally humiliated. She'd been _advised_ to be on the lookout for doggish behavior. How mortifying! "Was everyone told this?"

"I can't imagine it would be necessary for most of us. They're all probably waiting for their chance to pounce." She guestered to the rest of the room.

I chuckled even though I wasn't amused. "But you're not, so kneeing me in the groin didn't bother you in the slightest, did it?"

"I hit your thigh!" she cried.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. A man doesn't bend over like that to recover from a hit to the thigh."

She laughed. I found myself laughing with her, humored momentarily by the sound of her laugh. Another large object slammed into the windows suddenly, and we both stopped laughing. I'd almost forgotten we were in the midst of an attack.

"So how are you handling a room full of crying girls? We both know how that completely derails you," she teased.

I let out a breath, letting my frustration and confusion show plainly on my face. I wasn't sure if we were friends again or what, but I definitely could use her expertise on this. "Nothing in the world is more confusing! What do I say to stop it?" I urgently whispered to her.

She smirked at me. "Just pat them on the back and tell them it's going to be fine. Most of the time, when girls cry, they don't really want you to fix the problem. Sometimes they just want to be consoled or reassured."

"Really?" That seemed deceptively easy. If it really was so simple, why hadn't I figured that out yet? "That can't be it."

"I said _most_ of the time, don't forget. But it would probably work for most girls here."

I snorted. I couldn't help it. "I doubt that. Two have already asked me to send them home when this is over."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? Keep someone against her will? If this is enough to drive someone away, then we have no kind of a future together."

"Maybe they'll change their minds," America said.

"Maybe." I tried to keep my tone light as I said, "What about you? Scared off yet?"

"Honestly, I was sure you were sending me home after breakfast."

It was a thought that had crossed my mind last night. "Honestly? I had considered that myself."

We smiled at each other, and I was surprisingly pleased about the fact that we were on the same page with one another. But that made it harder for me to get the answer to my question.

"You didn't answer me. Do you want to leave?" I asked quietly.

Another something, a _big_ something, hit the wall, and she jerked her head toward the noise. She took a breath and smirked. "I will admit, in our present situation, leaving does seem like the better option."

I took a discreet breath and prepared myself for her rejection. Which is why I was so surprised when she looked me in my eyes and said, "But if you're not kicking me out, I'm not leaving."

I smiled happily. "Good. I'll need more tricks, like this elusive shoulder patting thing that wards off tears."

She grinned back at me. I could've taken that as my cue to leave, and left our conversation on a light note, but I felt that I couldn't. I had to make sure I set the record straight.

"America, could you do me a favor?" I asked hesitantly. She nodded.

"Everyone thinks we spent quite some time together yesterday. If anyone asks, would you tell them I'm not... I mean, I wouldn't just..."

She blushed. "Of course. And again, I really am sorry about that."

I smirked. "I should've known that if anyone was going to disobey an order, it would be you," I said endearingly.

What sounded like a group of huge boulders hit the shades all at once, making half the girls scream. I realized belatedly that I should probably continue making sure everyone else was okay, but I didn't want to leave.

"Who are they? What do they want?" America suddenly asked.

My eyebrow arched in surprise. "Who? The rebels?" She nodded.

"Depends on who you ask. And whether you're asking about the Northerners or the Southerners."

Her eyes bulged. "Wha-how many are there?"

"Just those two, generally," I hurried to reassure her. "The Northerners live in Bellingham, so they attack more frequently, and they're much less destructive. I'd guess this is a Northern job."

"Why? What makes them different from the Southerners?"

I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to tell her and scare her off. Sure, she was handling this, but how would she fare against an attack where her life would be in danger?

Still, she deserved an answer. I leaned in and whispered, "Their attacks are much more...lethal."

I saw America visibly tremor. "Lethal?"

I nodded. "I don't have the actual numbers, but people die when they come. It doesn't happen very often; they live so far away they only attack once or twice a year. The trouble is, they look exactly the same to us. We don't really know what we're in for until it's over."

Her worried face came back again. "But I still don't understand. What do they want?"

I shrugged. "I'd assume the Southerners just want us to be gone. They have no part in the social network, and I can't imagine that sits well with them. The Northerners are more of a mystery. Father seems to think they just want to disrupt our governing, but I have a different theory."

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Do I get to hear it?"

I hesitated. I wanted to share my theories, but I didn't want her to think I was stupid. According to my father, my theories were pretty naïve.

She saw my hesitation. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me. I get it."

I smiled in appreciation. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You hardly know me."

"But I intend to," I said without thinking. I hadn't meant to say it out loud. She blushed and looked way. A strange feeling rose up in me to know that I had the power to make her blush.

The noises were dying down, which indicated the end of the rebel attack. I realized that there were still about five girls I'd yet to check on.

I cleared my throat. "I should probably finish my rounds."

"Yeah, I'd imagine they're all wondering what's taking you so long."

"So, buddy, any suggestions as to whom I should speak with next?"

She looked around in thought. I was pleased she hadn't corrected my labeling her as my friend.

America pointed at a lady standing not too far off from us. She was wearing a pink dress made of satin, gently pulling her hands through her blonde hair in worry. She was very attractive, and I remembered seeing her with America earlier today.

"The blonde in the pink? That's Marlee. Sweetheart, very kind, loves movies. Go."

I walked away and spoke with Marlee. I had to admit, America was a great judge of character. Marlee was a perfect lady, and we somehow got on the topic of movies, where I discovered we shared many of the same favorites. I enjoyed speaking with her so much that I invited her to see a movie with me.

I finished my rounds and moved off to stand with my mother and father. Father was still talking quietly with a guard, so Mother and I were alone for the moment. She eyed me appraisingly. "I saw you talking with Lady America," she said, trying to sound casual. I could tell she was hoping to know what had happened there.

I slid closer and explained the situation. "How do I go about finding out who prepped the girls for their arrival? I want to find this man."

Mother laughed like she thought I was kidding and patted my shoulder. "So everything is good between you two?" she asked.

"I think so," I answered.

"That's good. When will you see her again?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't make a date with her," I said, realization dawning on me. Dammit. Why didn't I make a date with her?!

I turned around and saw her heading toward the door, arm in arm with Marlee. She glanced over at me and I caught her eye. I wanted to give her a signal that I wanted to talk to her later, but Father was close behind us and I didn't want it to be obvious. Unsure of what to do, I ended up smiling at her. She grinned back and left the room.

Damn. If only we had a secret signal.

Hmmm. That wasn't such a bad idea...

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**Hope you enjoyed!**


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